


Radio Voodoo

by BlanketFortAvenger



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Complete, Dancing, Feel-good, Fluff, Full Moon Pack Party, How is that not a tag yet?, I wrote this instead of studying, Inspired by Music, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Minor Original Character(s), Musical References, No Smut, Not Beta Read, Scott is trying to be a good friend, Stiles Stilinski is Eighteen Years Old, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, dancing in the moonlight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-29 14:49:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12633324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlanketFortAvenger/pseuds/BlanketFortAvenger
Summary: Stiles didn't ask for a prophetic soundtrack to his life, but thanks to magic, he got one. That, and a stereo that likes to play matchmaker - by which, he doesn't mean the song.





	Radio Voodoo

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly, I'd like to acknowledge that I do not own any of these characters. Several other fics I've read of this fandom have had this warning. So, I figured I'd just follow suit to be safe.
> 
> Secondly, I haven't marked this as underage, as where I'm from age of consent is sixteen. Also, everything in this fic is pretty PG. Seriously, it's just a big ball of happy, fluffy, tooth-rotting sweetness.
> 
> Lastly, I highly suggest listening to feel-good 70's songs while reading. Especially, King Harvest's 'Dancing in the Moonlight', as it mostly inspired this.

_‘For all our new listeners who just tuned in, I’m Dandy, in name and spirit._

_As sexy as I sound, I have something even sexier for you to listen to._

_You’re listening to Radio Voodoo, and this is King Harvest’s Dancing in the Moonlight.’_

 

As the keyboard notes trinckle in through his speakers, Stiles groans, letting his head fall against the steering wheel. His hands tighten and flex their grip against the hard rubber. He really should just disconnect the radio, but it’s saved their asses on more than one occasion now. The night’s warm, and Stiles has the windows rolled down, parked at the edge of the preserve. It’s late, but it’s not all that dark. The full-moon bathing everything in a gentle light. Stiles had parked in a clearing, to be able to see better. The tree-line a good thirty few feet away in any one direction. He’d had the engine idling, until he realised that – despite Scott’s earlier reassurances that he wouldn’t be out of place in a full-moon, pack frolic – he’d been totally forgotten.

He wouldn’t blame his friend, except that recently he’s been left behind, or pushed aside, more often than actually invited. Scott tries to tell him that it’s because it’ll be dangerous. He knows more than anyone that Stiles is good for it, that he’s useful, but since they turned eighteen and left school, Scott has been pushing for Stiles to make a more – normal life for himself. Stiles doesn’t want normal. Stiles isn’t normal, he’s a Spark, and an awesome one at that. So, Scott doesn’t know he’s been learning, practicing. In more than one instance, Stiles has gone and taken care of whatever is lurking in the woods, before Scott has even realised that there was a threat.

Six months ago, he’d been hightailing it down a backwater road with a sorceress at the back tires. It had mostly been a misunderstanding. He’d apologised to her after, and now they kept up a snapchat streak. During the chase, she’d shocked the jeep and Stiles had hit a pothole, throwing something loose in the radio. Something that obviously couldn’t be fixed with duct tape.

 _‘Or else it would be fixed by now, Scott.’_ Since then, it only plays one station, which cuts intermittently in and out whenever it feels like it, or more accurately, when the situation should such require.

Stiles had thought that Stevie Wonder making an audio appearance with ‘ _Superstition’_ on Friday the 13 th, was just the radio host being clever. ‘ _Bad Moon Rising’_ playing on the night of a full moon hadn’t been an omen, it was a coincidence: a rage filled, omega mad, coincidence. When the whole pack had suffered a sudden break in their sanity, Stiles had sat trembling in the only place he had felt safe – his Jeep. The radio cut in with a raspy guitar, and an echoing voice. ‘ _Where is My Mind’_ by the Pixies made three: three’s a pattern. So, after Deaton had cured them all of pixie madness – and Stiles had gleefully and vindictively imprisoned the pixies in the fae realm – he learned not to question radio voodoo.

The thing is, since Stiles had hopped in his car to drive out to the woods, the station had been playing endless feel good 70’s songs – that he was just not feeling. Stiles looks at his phone, and his unanswered texts about where the pack was meeting. He’d be more worried, if this hadn’t been the third time in five months for this to happen. He could try find the pack, but experience has taught him that walking through the woods in the dark, alone, is not such a fun idea – so much experience. So, he’s stuck in limbo, waiting for someone to reply, or something to come along and attack him. At least the radio seemed to be trying to reassure him that everything was fine.

He’s absently thumbing his key, maybe swaying a little to the music, and deciding whether or not to leave, when his door is yanked open. Stiles has just enough time to swallow his tongue, and see a flash of unnaturally bright, blue eyes, before a hand is reaching across him, and turning up the radio.

“The rest of the pack’s gone running.” Stiles breathed a relieved sigh, as Peter leaned up against the side of the jeep, arms crossed, smirking.

“Figures. You didn’t feel like going with them?” Stiles twists in his seat, so he can stretch his legs out the door. Peter only huffs, like he couldn’t possibly think of something he’d rather not do. But Peter was the one to turn up the radio, and Stiles can see him tapping his foot in time to the song, so his time with the pack couldn’t have been too bad. He’s about to say that he should probably just head home, when Peter holds out his hand. “What?” Stiles asks.

“Moonlight,” Peter replies. He holds out his other hand to indicate to the empty clearing. The light amplifying the shadows between the trees, but instead of unnerving, it makes the rest of the world fall away – secluded. “Dance with me.”

“You don’t want that.”

“I do,” Peter insists. Stiles is more than a little stunned, but to his credit, he’s thinking about the safety of everyone involved when he declines. That is, before he realises that it’s his radio playing the song.

“How could I refuse?” Stiles hesitantly takes Peter’s hand, and the werewolf smiles.

Peter spins him immediately, and Stiles only keeps his footing thanks to the arm Peter wraps around his waist. He’s looking at his feet trying to avoid standing on Peter’s expensive-looking loafers, that is, until Peter starts singing.

“It’s such a fine and natural sight…” When he looks up, Peter is looking at him, and the expression on his face is one Stiles has only ever seen too few times. He looks happy, and Stiles’ heart beats a little wrongly, which makes Peter smile more. They continue to sway, Peter taking little steps, so that he can follow. When he spins him next, it’s slower, and Stiles laughs. Peter continues to look at him, like Stiles used magic to hang tonight’s moon.

As the music begins to fade Stiles is kind of hoping it wouldn’t, but Peter eases them both into stillness. The radio host is already announcing the next song, overlaying the last few lines of chorus, but he isn’t listening. He’s looking down again, not sure what he wants to hear Peter say. Peter still has a hand around his waist, and one of Stiles’ hands tucked in his other. Stiles is about to pull away, when Peter brings their hands up to his face, pressing a kiss against Stiles’ knuckles. Stiles shallowly sucks in a breath while raising his gaze. He doesn’t know what he’s going to say. Can feel the words on his lips, before his brain even knows the syllables required. He can’t help it, he’s going to say…

 _‘Baby, please, go all the way…’_ Not that. The Raspberries continue to croon out from behind him. Stiles twirls back to face his jeep, eyes wide, and cheeks red. Slamming a fist down on the radio, the damn thing miraculously goes quiet, but Stiles can still feel it’s smug all-knowingness.

“Did you, um. Did you want a ride back to your apartment?” Stiles asks turning back to Peter, and Peter is standing right there. The silence between them might be worse than the matchmaking voodoo, and Peter is looking at him, perhaps even a little nervously.

“Stiles,” Peter begins, and Stiles finally decides what he’s going to say.

“Kiss me.” Stiles smiles awkwardly. Peter looks a little taken aback, but it soon turns into affection. He takes a step even closer, a hand going up to the side of Stiles’ neck, stroking a thumb over his pulse.

“How could I refuse?”

_‘That’s all for tonight, ladies and lover-boys. Hope you’ve had a Dandy evening.’_


End file.
